


Impulse

by took_skye



Series: Living For the Night [19]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, POV First Person, POV Male Character, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-08
Updated: 2011-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/took_skye/pseuds/took_skye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's difficult for Jason Gideon to keep Lil Foyet's impulses in check when his own start to push beyond his controls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impulse

  
_"Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping...waiting...and though unwanted...unbidden...it will stir...open its jaws, and howl. It speaks to us...guides us. Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have?" ~ Angelus, Buffy the Vampire Slayer_

***///***

She rarely comes to me like this, but when she does she’s hardest to maintain. I imagine when like this around others she can be downright terrifying. Flecks of blood clings to her hair and clothes, her cheeks are tinged with blood rushes from herself and her latest victim. She’s fresh off a kill, and a good one if her current behavior is any indication.

“Have you ever really seen a heart, Jason?” She pants out as I keep up efforts not to react.

I can feel her breath brushing thick over my jugular as she straddles me where I sit. Normally I don’t allow this, but it’s better to keep her close at the moment. To let her ride out the feelings with me close, holding her in check and talking her through it. Or, at least, trying to talk her through it.

“A human one?” I hold her wrists tight up against her own chest to keep them from roaming anywhere else.

Still, Lil fights me. With her whole body the teen girl fights me. “It’s an awkward fist drenched in blood.” She hisses out as her body presses into me. “You’d think it’d be all mushy, but it’s so tough. So strong.”

I feel teeth graze the crook of my neck, catch tiny folds of flesh gently before slipping away. These are the soft kisses after her version of rough sex; a way to expend that buzzing energy of a post-kill orgasm.

“Who was he?” My lips slip out before thinking as the tip of her tongue hits my jugular.

The laugh is nearly cruel in causing her body to vibrate into mine. “Nobody, Jason. Just some nobody with dark, curled, hair and deep eyes.” She shifts to catch the corner of my eyes with hers. “He was beautiful, inside and out.”

The description, vague as it is, sends a warning shot to the most basic parts of my brain. “Tell me more.” My voice is thick in a mix of want and need and fear.

Lil picks up on it immediately and reads me as quickly as I’ve seen Dr Reid read a book. “Firmly built, muscles in hiding under a relaxed stature,” she answers me, her hips giving a sudden, playful, buck over me.

The movement causes my grip to panic and release.

In a flash the girl’s fingers work buttons on my shirt, three are freed from their holes before my hands take hold of her wrists once again. “Lil, don’t.”

“He looked like a younger you, Jason,” she blurts out in a wickedly confessing smile. Then the smile leaves. “Just like you, but without those soulful looks of yours.”

I examine her face closely; search her eyes for her state of emotion. Where is she right now on that sliding scale of humanity she keeps me guessing with?

“I watched him, followed him, enjoyed him until I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“Couldn’t stand what?” I gasp the question out as if having just broken free from a kiss.

Even under my hold Lil moves to touch my face and, as my hands fall away, hers explore the lines and creases years of living have given me. “That he wasn’t you.”

My eyes soften, lips frown.

Her head falls into the crook of me neck once more and her entire weight follows as if she were small child resting on a caretaker. “I won’t take you, but the need’s there.” This confession is not a happy one, but it is an honest one.

She’s telling me something I’m already too aware of and we both know it. The older she gets, the stronger both those “taking” urges become. I know, one day, she’ll have to satisfy at least one with me. I won’t have an option and neither will she; her animalism won’t give us one.

I wrap my arms around her tight, protective, holding her in place as her heart slams fast against mine. The blood she spilled is causing hers to rush through arteries and veins still and she can’t control it. Just like with her breathing, which I need to take charge of by over-exaggerating mine until she starts to copy its slower pace.

Seconds tick by, then minutes, and soon I feel the murderess in my arms go soft with sleep.

“Lilith?”

She does nothing so I stand, carry her towards the bedroom, and let her down on the mattress easy and slow. Sleeping she looks incapable of anything but sweet words and soft smiles. Her demons are far from her and her appearance is truly angelic. It’s a shame this isn’t the real her, that this purified state can only exist when she’s fast asleep.

I couldn’t say for sure the exact moment her dark beauty captured me the way it did, but now it’s sunk its claws in so that I bleed guilt. She feels none so I feel it for the both of us.

She spreads out over the comforter, uninhibited as ever in claiming the bed for her own. Even in her sleep she’s demanding and possessive. Her head lulls to the side and exposes finger smears of blood. Her victim fought. She won. I’m sickeningly proud of that.

“Night, Lilith.” I speak softly as I lean down closer to her with the intention of giving her forehead a kiss. Instead the urge to kiss the pink bow lips that smile lazily even in her sleep surges inside of me. The dilemma catches me up; causes me to pause halfway over to her.

I should have known better. One should never let their guard down with a black swan.

She nearly tears my head clean off and certainly tears both buttons and fabric from my top shirt as the girl pulls me into her. Just the quick reflexes of hands keeps us from colliding fully; my hand to the bed and hers from my shirt to my jaw. Her kiss is as violent as any other aspect of her and she’s holding me in place to complete it.

All that calm I have, all the calm I’d given her, she’s shattered for both of us. My body fast goes into a frenzied blur of fight, flight, and fuck. The spare hand I have tries to find something to touch that both satisfies and fails to offend. It settles on her hip, alternating between pushing and pulling in its grip.

Lil’s up on her knees and her nails dig into my face before her hold relaxes, fades down to my throat and then back to the top of my spine.

A girl her age shouldn’t kiss so well. Shouldn’t be able to trick me into panting with her, convince my lips that moving as hers do is the only option. Lil should not work moans from me with her tongue as expertly as she does.

Claustrophobia sets in suddenly. Everything feels too tight. My shirts, my pants, my very own skin feels like it’s holding me back…holding me in.

The dangerous beauty before me must sense it. Lil must sense that building tension from deep within the pit of my stomach as her spare hand starts to work loose my belt.

Yet the move has the opposite desired effect. My mind clears up fast as her inexperience starts to show. There’s no hesitation, but she snags the belt at times and can’t figure out the buckle with only one hand.

I go to work myself out the tangle of our kiss. “Lil, stop.” I can’t have this continue. Both my hands quickly move to push her hand away before taking hold of it.

The hand that’s worked its way into my hair relaxes, but stays to play as her forehead rests against mine. She's panting as hard and fast as she's made me pant as she looks into my eyes. “What?”

“We can’t do this.”

Her eyes narrow, she pulls back a touch, and her hand leaves my hair. “Why not?” She’s not so much offended as frustrated.

“Because you…” I look down and away some, unable to say it.

I can’t confess that she’s as pure as she is without somehow indicating my thoughts are as impure as they are.

I smile a little before trying again. This time I stand up straight and make they effort to look down on her as if a father figure speaking from on high. “Because it’s too soon.”

“How do you know?”

“Experience.”

She settles back into a defiantly seated position in the center of the bed; if I'm going to play the father she'll play the child. “I don’t regret it.”

“I know, but I do.”

“We needed it.” Lil insist.

I give no response except to tell her to get some sleep. I have no other to give. I know she’s right.

***///***

 _"...If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we'd truly be dead." ~ Angelus, Buffy the Vampire Slayer_


End file.
